Working Title
by Bippo
Summary: Formerly 'Magic, of Sorts'. I'm back, and I've brought presents :) Ch. 4, in which Quistis confronts Cid. She's not too pleased . . .
1. Homecoming

  
**Magic, of Sorts**   
By Bippo 

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy, the characters, locations, or weapons. If I did, do you honestly think I'd be writing fan fiction about them?   
  
  


Chapter One:   
**Homecoming**   
  


In a small community like Balamb Garden, tall tales fly faster than Zell at the helm of the Ragnarok. The previous week's reliable source had been refuted when Squall and Rinoa -- supposed to have broken up before the sorceress departed on her SeeD exam -- were seen laughing and dancing with each other at the graduation bal. That the couple looked charming in their matching SeeD uniforms did nothing to cheer the resident gossips*, now faced with the task of 'accidentally overhearing' some equally shocking news in what became an uncommonly slow, uneventful seven days. The rumor of Seifer Almasy's impending return to Garden, then, came as a soothing balm for those poor minds, deprived of wild speculation for so long. . . 

It was, as most rumors prove to be, only half true: I had already been in the building for nearly an hour when the first rounds of "did-you-hear"s were whispered over lunch. I'd spent that hour (and the next two -- is that man ever long-winded) being talked at by Cid in his office, oblivious to the mutating rumors on the floors below. 

I probably should have been paying more attention to his speech. He went over everything I could possibly ever need to know, from the special ground rules for my return to what I should do if I were threatened with death, but I just couldn't force myself to listen to his droning. Instead I stared at the tattered hem of my beloved gray trench coat and debated whether being readmitted after what I'd done was worth such a lecture. 

"Seifer, you realize that your situation is exceedingly delicate," the headmaster said. I looked up at him and nodded my head automatically, a habit I'd developed over the years. It made him think that I was listening. "There are many people who would rather see you incarcerated than offered the opportunity to start over." 

That caught my attention, and I nodded obligingly. I understood that much all to well -- one of the reasons I'd wanted to come back to Garden was to get away from people who were more eager to shoot me than to listen to me. 

"As such," Cid continued, "you will need to be extremely careful in your actions, lest they be perceived by civilians as dangerous to society. Garden cannot afford another _incident_ -- having so many of our students defect nearly two years ago was more damaging than you may realize." 

"Yes, Headmaster Cid, I understand. No instigating rebellions, no provoking others to do things they'll regret." _Like follow me on some damn fool crusade to take over the world. I know what you're trying not to say, and you're wasting your breath. I'm not that stupid anymore._ I was sorry for dragging Fuj and Rai, and the whole of Galbadia Garden, for that matter, through what should have been my own personal Hell. Friends deserve better, especially when they're the only ones you've got. 

Cid seemed appeased by my answer; at any rate, he'd finally stopped lecturing me. He leaned over his desk and pressed the button for the intercom. 

"Would commander Squall Leonheart please report to the Headmaster's office immediately." Despite the polite phrasing, it wasn't a question -- meaning that the old man still commanded considerable power at Garden. 

A few awkward moments passed as we waited for my former rival to arrive. What do you say to a man who helped raise you, only to have you turn around and team up with his _possessed wife_ in an effort to destroy him and all he'd worked to build? I certainly didn't know, so I didn't say anything. I sat quietly, anticipating the look on Squall's face when he saw me for the first time in over a year. 

Puberty boy certainly didn't disappoint me. He recovered himself quickly; I'll give him credit for that. But when he first saw me sitting in front of Cid's desk, right ankle resting on my left knee, Hyperion lying in my lap, relaxed as can be -- he gawked. His eyes bugged out, his jaw dropped. . . Really, I was almost proud of him. It was the most emotion I'd ever seen him display, and that's counting the training session where we gave each other our scars. His surprise, of course, quickly turned to anger as he fixed me with a stare of utter loathing. 

"What are you doing here," he growled. "Cid. What is _he_ doing here?" 

Cid met Squall's angry gaze with his own unwaveringly calm one. 

"Seifer has requested to return to Garden. I have granted his request." The headmaster's words stood almost as a challenge to Squall, daring him to object. Some small part of me almost hoped he would. 

Instead the Commander (now there was something that would take some getting used to; thinking of Puberty Boy as someone important) nodded, silently, reluctantly. The expression on his face never changed. Cid returned Squall's nod with a trace of gratitude. Thanking him, I guess, for not putting up a fuss about my sudden change in status, from enemy to ally. 

"Commander, I know you've had you differences with Cadet Almasy in the past, but I ask that you try to set those differences aside. He will be living and training here at Garden, and if he passes his field exam -- _which he assures me he will_ -- he will become a full-fledged SeeD. You will be working alongside him, and to do so, you will need to trust him. For that reason I am assigning you, and the rest of the so-called 'Sorceress Gang', to watch over Mr. Almasy. You will learn to get along with him, and he will learn to rely on you." 

I jerked up out of my casual pose, nearly dropping Hyperion in the process. "What? Sir, this wasn't part of the agreement! 

Squall echoed my protest with his own cry of dismay, which Cid quickly waved away. 

"Seifer," the headmaster fixed me with a stern stare that did little to calm me, "this is my decision. You will abide by it if you wish to remain at Garden. And Squall," he continued, turning his gaze upon my opposite, "I am asking you to do this because it is the only way I can see that Seifer will be tolerated by the rest of the students and faculty. If the SeeDs who fought against Cadet Almasy in Sorceress War are seen accepting his return, then perhaps that acceptance will spread. Like it or not, people look up to you. They will follow your example." 

Squall didn't seem too pleased with Cid's reasoning. Then again, Squall never seemed too pleased about anything. It was a near impossibility to judge how he was really feeling behind that impassive front -- he could be the happiest man in the world inside, and I doubt anyone would know the difference. 

"Sir, I'd like to speak to you in private." Squall's voice sounded strained, as though he was barely managing to remain civil. 

The old man nodded his assent and asked me to wait outside his office doors while he and the Commander discussed in private.   
  


"I have to take you to your class now." 

I looked up at Squall slowly, giving myself time to mask my surprise. I hadn't heard him enter the lobby outside of the headmaster's office. _Am I that out of practice?_

"I have to take you to class," he repeated, each word conveying his reluctance to fulfill the task. 

"No you don't. Tell me where it is, I can find my way. I did live here for seven years, you know." Puberty Boy, escorting me to class? How badly did Cid want to humiliate me? 

Pretty badly, it would seem. 

"I can't, " he said. "I have to explain your situation to your instructor. I'm also here as a deterrent to overzealous students. Or some reason Cid doesn't want them attacking you, thinking they're doing the world a favor." 

I couldn't believe it. Squall, the grand high Commander, mighty Captain Puberty himself, was being sent to protect me from some lousy half-trained SeeD cadets. 

"I don't need a bodyguard. Hyne, if my time as the Sorceress' Knight proved anything, it should be that I can hold my own in a fight." 

The moron stared at me blankly. "I'm protecting _them_ from _you_." 

I couldn't decide whether that was better or worse. "I'm not going to kill on my way to my frickin' classroom!" 

Squall actually rolled his eyes. "I know. If I'm with you, no one will bother you, and no fights will break out. No fights means no chance of someone being accidentally injured, on either side. So shut up and follow me, Almasy." 

I followed him into the elevator, but I couldn't let my archrival have the last word. 

"So why're you so talkative all of a sudden? The Squall I remember had a three-word vocabulary." 

". . . whatever." 

I chuckled softly in satisfaction. "That's more like it. Still. . . you were actually using whole sentences a minute ago, and you sounded used using them in conversations. I wonder what finally loosened your tongue?" 

Squall didn't answer, he simply stared straight ahead, tapping his fingers against the hilt of his gunblade in time with the atrociously out-of-place elevator music. 

"What. . . or who?" I persisted, musing aloud. "Chicken Wuss? Nah, he's too annoying. I can't see you getting close to him. That hyperactive chick, Selphie? Somehow I don't think so. The cowboy's a moron, and as far as I know he doesn't swing that way anyway." I could see Squall tense slightly as I ticked off people on my fingers. I'd missed messing with him. "That leaves the luscious instructor Trepe -- but last I'd heard, you told her to talk to a wall. Oh, and the Sorceress. . . . Was it her, Squall?" 

I knew full well that Squall and Rinoa were a couple, and had been for some time. Actually, I'd been a bit jealous when I first heard that they were together. Not because I still liked Rinoa, but because Squall's relationship with her was another way for him to win the imaginary war for superiority between us. I had come in second again, more unlovable even than the cold, insensitive Leonheart. 

If I were anyone else, I probably would have stopped my prodding there, but I'm Seifer Almasy. I had to see things through to the end. 

"Yes, I can see it," I drawled suggestively. By now I'd followed him out of the elevator and down the second-floor corridor. "I'm sure you started out small. She probably had you grunting and moaning within the first week, then -- oof!" 

I didn't get the chance to finish my sentence, because Squall knocked the breath out of me when he spun and pinned me to the wall. Surprisingly, I couldn't break free of his grasp. He leaned in close to my face, our mirroring scars almost touching. 

"Don't," he growled through clenched teeth, "you _dare_ say those things about Rinoa. Say what you want about me, my family, my ancestry, my sexuality, _whatever!_ But leave Rinoa out of it. She is the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful person I've ever met, and she doesn't deserve all this crap." Each word he spoke was slow, deliberate, and occasionally punctuated by slamming me against the wall. By the end of his outburst, Squall was shaking with suppressed rage. Strangely, though, his eyes weren't focused on me anymore. It was more like he was staring through me. 

He suddenly dropped his arms to his sides, looking for moment like a lost little boy. I would have laughed if it weren't so unsettling. 

"Follow me." Squall's voice was once again his usual monotone. 

We had barely gone ten paces when Puberty Boy stopped before an all-too-familiar doorway. He knocked twice, smartly, and then motioned for me to go inside.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


*AN: Or the Squinoa-haters, for that matter ;-P   
So. . . this is my first Final Fantasy fic. I'd really appreciate feedback of all sorts. Also note that the title is temporary, until I come up with something better. Suggestions for a new one are welcome!   



	2. Joyful Reunion

Disclaimer: I am not a multi-million dollar corporation. I am a rather broke student. Therefore it would be a waste of your time to sue me just because *I don't own Final Fantasy VIII*   
(Well, actually I do, but in a different sense.)   


Chapter Two   
**Joyful Reunion**   
  


The afternoon sun would have cascaded through the windows of my classroom, if my classroom had any windows. Instead, the fluorescent lighting that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once lent the room an artificially cheery atmosphere. I sat at my desk, tapping the end of my red pen lightly against my lips as I tried to concentrate on the stack of papers I was supposed to be grading. To no avail; I just couldn't focus. With a sigh I set down my pen and stretched languorously before rising to turn off the lights, which were starting to hurt my brain. Falling back into my chair, I half-closed my eyes and just relaxed. _This is nice_. 

I watched as the digital clock in the corner of my desk ticked away the seconds of my life, my thoughts slowed to a pleasantly torpid pace. _One, two, three, four, five . . . voices in the hall -- they seem to be coming this way. I'm not expecting anybody . . . sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen . . . hmm. Those voices are familiar. What's that thumping sound? . . . thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two . . . someone doesn't sound too happy about something. Maybe I should go see what's going on? In a minute . . ._

My mental debate was cut short a few moments later when someone knocked sharply against my classroom door. 

"Go away," I mumbled under my breath. "Help class is over." 

Instead the door opened a crack and the voices wafted in, clearer than before. 

"No way. You've got to be kidding," spoke the owner of a rich baritone I knew from _somewhere_. 

"Cid's decision," replied the second person. That terse voice, at least, I could place as Squall's. "Quit stalling." 

"Stalling? I've always been light-years ahead of you, Puberty Boy. Or should that be Commander Puberty, now?" 

Puberty Boy. . . . 

"Seifer?" I called out, suddenly confused. It can't be. 

The two chose that moment to step into my classroom, the first palming the light switch as he entered. I was caught off-guard, disoriented and blinking madly as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. When the dots finally began to recede, I found myself staring at two faces I'd not seen together in some time. The one nearest me was sporting a trademark smirk that I'd rather hoped never to see again. 

"Miss me, Instructor?" 

I very nearly froze up from surprise, but habit saved me. My acquaintance with Seifer had taught me that the best way to deal with his antics was to pay them no heed. I turned to face Squall, ignoring the arrogant blonde with my entire being. 

"You have something to tell me?" I was mostly successful in keeping a normal, conversational tone of voice. 

He gave the slightest of nods, his usual understated attitude not entirely hiding the wicked gleam in his eyes at my snubbing his former rival. "Cid has decided, at Matron's urging, to readmit Seifer to Garden. We're to accept him with open arms, as examples to the rest of the establishment." It was clear that Squall didn't like this idea. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with his position as a role model. 

I took a moment to compose myself and think about what the commander had just told me. 

"Well," I said slowly, "I refuse to be the one who gets to tell Zell." 

Wonder of wonders, Squall almost smiled. Rinoa's worked a miracle with this boy. 

"Is he still such a Chicken-Wuss?" Seifer interjected. Squall ignored him, responding instead to my comment. 

"I say we let Selphie handle that job. We'll make sure that Kira's around." 

I nodded at that. Zell's librarian girlfriend has a calming effect on the overly energetic martial-arts expert, and one that would be much appreciated, given the situation. 

"Anyway, Cid wants you to be Almasy's Advanced Battle Theory instructor again." 

My head snapped up to stare at Squall, who had just delivered the unwelcome words in a soft monotone. I don't know how, but he managed to keep his face inscrutably blank as I searched for a sign in his features that would tell me -- please! -- that this was all a cruel trick. 

"You're serious, aren't you." Stupid comment; of course he was serious. He was Squall. The commander didn't joke about things like that. 

"He said it's to settle people's fears. To show them that Almasy's being teamed up with an instructor who can handle him -- or put up with him." Squall shrugged. At least now he had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable with the situation. 

I allowed myself to focus on Seifer, who turned out to be staring at me. I was fairly certain his dismayed look way mirrored on my face. 

"So," I began as civilly as possible, "I take it this is news to you, too?" 

Seifer nodded. "Commander Puberty here seems to have forgotten to tell me about this detail." 

A thought struck me then. "When am I supposed to teach him? I don't have any ABT classes this time of year, and I'm already having trouble finding time to help everyone who needs it." How could the Headmaster think I'd be able to take on this extra duty with my current teaching schedule? I barely slept as it was. 

"Xu's coming off active duty to take over your morning class. You'll be working with Almasy one-on-one during that time. Today, though, Cid wants you to assess the ex-lapdog's -- ah, 'technical knowledge,' he called it. See what he doesn't know," Squall explained. Then the lousy cop-out ducked out of my room without so much as a backwards glance. 

I have never wanted to punch him more than I did at that moment. Instead, I turned back to Seifer, who'd begun rifling through the papers on my desk, seemingly unaffected by the commander's lapdog comment. He looked up and smirked at me before continuing his perusal of the papers I had to grade. 

"Seifer, what are you doing?" I sighed. "Please leave those alone." 

Of course he didn't; I doubt if he ever really listened to me in all the years I'd taught him. I'd usually not let it bother me, it was just Seifer's way of getting attention, but I simply refused to put up with his foolishness today. He'd descended like a dark cloud upon my rest, pretty much guaranteeing that I'd not have a good day until he finally passed his SeeD exam and left my class -- and my life -- forever. 

"Seifer, leave my things alone," I snapped, grabbing the papers he held from his hands. "Go away. I need to talk to the Headmaster about this." 

He raised a taunting eyebrow. "I don't think I want to. According to Squall, you're my instructor. Somehow I can't believe that Commander Puberty would lie about that. So here I am: I want to learn. Teach me, oh instructor dearest. . . That is, assuming you haven't lost your touch." 

I just glared at him. 

"What more could you possibly learn from a mediocre instructor like myself? You've taken this class five times already. While that certainly has to be a record for failure, I'm sure by now you could practically teach it yourself. Stay here, go to the training center, I don't care. I'm going to talk to the Headmaster." 

I stalked out toward the elevator before Seifer had a chance to retort, one hand unconsciously stroking my whip, leaving behind a silently fuming ex-knight.   
  
  


AN: After much tweaking, I'm still not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I decided I'd rather move things along than obsess over it.   
Thanks to Azora for pointing a few things out. While the idea of Cid as royalty is an interesting one, the "Sire" was a slipup. And I agree with you about the Seifer thing. By that point it was late, I couldn't think of anything better, and I didn't care. I think this is slightly more fitting, if still not quite what I want. (10 points to you for motivating me to improve ;o)   
Finally, thanks to those of you who've reviewed. I respect you lot as authors, it's very nice to have positive commentary from such talented people. 


	3. Introducing Zell Dincht

Disclaimer: As with all Final Fantasy related things, Zell is not mine to have. (Nor is Seifer.) If only . . .   
  
  


Chapter 3   
**Introducing Zell Dincht**   
  


_One, two, three, kick -- one, two, three, punch -- block, block, three, punch -- double punch, kick, chop, right hook -- duck, crouch, wait, BOOYA!_

I love the training center. It's combat for sport, for personal improvement. A place where I can go to let out some of my energy; and that's getting harder to do every day now that Squall's got me teaching the younger cadets. Heh -- you'd think that a combat instructor would be active the entire day. Not so. I'm stuck marking tests, writing assignments, composing lesson plans . . . . I've gained so much respect for Quisty in the past few months. 

Don't get me wrong. I mostly like being an instructor. I teach a great bunch of kids; it's just that I miss my free time. I've always been kind of hyperactive, and my martial arts help me unwind. So does spending time with Kira, but . . . 

When I was little, I couldn't sit still. In class I'd fidget, I'd babble, and I'd inevitably fall out of my chair. The kids would laugh at me, so my teachers thought I was doing it for attention. I tell you, I doubt if any other kid in Balamb spent more time in detention that I did, my first few years of school. Eventually they realized that I wasn't acting up on purpose, and they diagnosed me with some attention-hyperactivity disorder or another. They tried me on pills to slow me down, but that didn't work very well. I'd get moody and sullen, and I still couldn't pay attention in class. And then Dad died . . . Long story short, I tried to run away. 

I didn't get very far. I think I sat at the train station for about four hours before I realized I didn't really want to leave Mom or Grandpa. They weren't the problem, I was. By leaving, I'd just be taking my troubles with me. So I went home, miserable -- at least until I walked in the door. It turns out that Thom, the old stationmaster, had called Mom to tell her where I was so she wouldn't get too worried. She'd figured me out and had a tray of hot dogs (even then, my favorite food), hot chocolate, and a warm hug waiting for me. Then she waited for me to start talking. Mom's always given me my space; she's cool that way. 

We must have stayed up all night discussing feelings and family and being true to yourself -- stuff that had been bothering me deep down, though I'd never dared say it before. When you're thirteen years old, talking about feelings with your mom just isn't the cool thing to do. It was that night that Mom said she'd been looking into a new school, one that might be better suited for a kid like me -- Garden. I thought that was a pretty stupid name for a school, but the combat training sounded sort of cool. Grandpa offered to teach me martial arts if I'd give Garden a try it for a few weeks, with the understanding that I could go back to my old classes if I didn't like it there. He'd already taught me a bit, and at my age that offer sent tantalizing visions of myself as combat champion of the world dancing through my head. 

During my entrance interview, I found out that Garden's headmaster was none other than Cid Kramer, my foster father of five years. I figured that was as good a sign as any that my going this school would turn out all right. I had no idea . . . . Grandpa's lessons had me well ahead of my combat class in no time. It felt so good to succeed for once in my life. The other cadets would actually come to me for help! I did fairly well in my other classes, too, learning tricks to help me concentrate. Every day after class I'd trek back to Balamb, then Grandpa and I'd work out on the Alcauld plains. When he got too sick to keep up with me I used to wheel him out. He'd call out instructions and advice as he sat in his wheelchair watching me. . . It was kind of hard to see him just sitting there when only a year or so earlier he'd been more agile than I was. Mom later said that his daily training sessions with me were what kept him going for so long. 

Grandpa died during my second year at Garden, but not before he'd taught me to feel the rhythm of a battle. His lessons have kept me alive in more than one situation, so when he was gone I moved my daily workout to the training center and invited anyone who wanted to come. Some days, like today, I work alone; but others find me training with a dozen or so people who need combat help. I like to think that Grandpa would be proud of me for it. 

So there I was in the middle of punching out Mikey, one of the training center's two T-Rexaurs, when Cid paged me over the loudspeaker. Just as I was about to land the finishing blow, Mr. Headmaster's voice blared out of nowhere, distracting me at the crucial moment. I missed completely and threw myself off balance, unable to dodge Mikey's tail as he swung it toward me. I rode the blow, but still ended up flying a good fifteen feet to land in the water. _I'll be feeling that tomorrow. _Of course, Cid chose that moment to page me again. He's got an incredible sense of timing. 

"Would Zell Dincht please report to the Headmaster's office. SeeD Dincht, Headmaster's office." 

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time," I muttered; hoisting my sore, dripping body onto the bank opposite the T-Rexaurs' play area. Mikey was in no condition to follow me anyway. 

"Unfortunately for you, I think," a very familiar voice added, obviously trying to hold back laughter. A little giggle escapes pursed lips as the arm that went with the voice reached down to help me up. 

I accepted the proffered hand and sprang to my feet, using the momentum to enfold my 'rescuer' in a warm hug. 

"Hiya, Kira." 

"Zell," my girlfriend grumbled, "now you've gone and gotten me all wet." But she hugged me back, so I knew she wasn't actually mad. 

I flashed her a grin. "Terrible, aren't I?" 

"Awful," she agreed with a small smile. "And I'm not the only one who will think so if you don't hurry to see the headmaster." 

Cid, right. I'd completely forgotten about him when I saw Kira. She kinda has that effect on me sometimes . . . . I ran a hand over my face then flicked out my fingers in annoyance, little droplets of water flying off them to spatter in the dirt. I offered her an apologetic shrug. 

"The Powers that Be call. Can I meet up with you in about half an hour at the cafeteria? Sorry about this," I added. I hated to duck out on her like that, but as a SeeD there was little I could do about it. 

She gave me a little hug. "It's okay, Zell. Half an hour would be great. You'd better hurry if you want to get changed first." 

Kira was right, as usual. But the dorms were halfway across Garden . . . . 

"Nah, I don't think I will. It's sort of Cid's fault I'm soaked, his carpets can suffer for it." With a quick kiss I was jogging off backwards, waving the whole while. "See you in a bit!" 

Her exasperated smile parted into a warning cry, but it was too late. I hit the tree full force and went down just as the Headmaster called for me a third time. _Man am I gonna be late . . ._   
  


AN: Hmm . . . I'm not too fond of the first part of chapter, it feels sort of awkward, but it serves its purpose. The next one should be up soon, featuring an angry Quistis. Yay! 


	4. Uncharacteristically Yours, Q. Trepe

Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine!   
_[Little voice of reason: No they're not. You can't say that.]_   
Oh, yeah. That's what I meant. FFVIII and all related characters, weapons, etc. _don't_ belong to me. Oops. Don't sue.   
  
  


Chapter 4   
**Uncharacteristically Yours, Q. Trepe**   
  


I don't usually get angry. At least not visibly, not in a big way. I don't yell, kick, scream, fight -- well, okay, I do fight, but that's different. As a mercenary, I'm supposed to -- well, beat on people. It's my job. Considering; I don't really display intense emotion outside of work. For better or for worse, I _earned_ my reputation as the Ice Queen. So you can imagine how mad I'd have to be to go storming into Cid's office. Cid's poor secretary gave me just one glance before busying herself shuffling papers at her desk. I didn't even acknowledge her, concentrating instead on ensuring that my every step would thunder throughout Garden. I don't take anger lightly. 

Cid didn't even blink as I stomped into his office. I, Quistis Trepe, model student and Miss Composure herself, had barged in unannounced. Scowling furiously. Fists clenched. Seething! And he, the penultimate source of my troubles, _smiled_ at me. 

"Quistis. Have a seat. How can I help you?" 

I declined the offered chair with a frown. Sometimes the upper hand in an argument was gained simply by being physically higher than your opponent. I turned my frown into a look of pure determination which I then focused, with every ounce of intensity I'd ever held, on my former foster father. 

"Get rid of Seifer." 

The wretched man grinned again. I think it was only in my mind that it twisted into a cruel smirk. "I'm afraid we can't do that, Quistis." 

"Like hell. Get. Rid. Of. _Seifer_." 

I hoped it wasn't just in my mind that he headmaster flinched at my tone of voice. I certainly wasn't imagining the steel in my gaze or the way my words lowered first to a whisper, then a hostile hiss. 

Of course it wasn't enough to shake him. Headmaster Cid seems like a pushover, and in some ways he is. He's a kindly old fellow and tries to do what's right, but under that sweet grand fatherly image is a man of incredible strength and resourcefulness. A crafty old fox who will use any tool available to bring you around to his side. Unfortunately for me. 

"I'm sorry, Quistis, that you're so upset about Seifer's return. I truly am, because it puts me in a difficult situation. The purpose of an instructor, as I'm sure you understand, is to teach students what they need to know to succeed after graduation. Cadet Almasy has yet to graduate; but his potential for success, if properly nurtured, is nothing short of extraordinary." 

Of course I reacted to his final comment. That assessment of Seifer's skills was far too familiar -- I had written it when he first came under my wing as a student. I could feel my muscles tense as I sought to maintain the control that had always come so easily before. Seifer could not be taught; he refused to learn. I knew. I had tried for two excruciating years to cram lessons into his thick skull. I still can't help but sometimes think he failed on purpose, just so he could have another shot at making my life miserable. I breathed deeply before replying. 

"Seifer's potential, such as it is, lies buried beneath the rubble of his past. His attitude alone is more than enough to thwart any fool who'd dare try to unearth the promise he showed when I wrote that review." 

Cid leaned back in his chair with a slight sigh and crossed his arms over his ample stomach. "I am aware that Cadet Almasy's history is rather . . . speckled. However, the decision to readmit him has been made. Garden has been assured that Seifer will co-operate fully with all staff, or face immediate disciplinary measures." 

"Meaning what, exactly?" I prompted, unimpressed by this revelation. _That's all nice and friendly, but how much of this co-operation is euphemistic political pleasantry?_

"Meaning that Seifer's been readmitted on the condition that he follow orders. He will soon turn twenty-one. Garden has granted him permission to remain for up to a year beyond his next birthday, or until his next SeeD exam, whichever comes first." Cid paused a moment, probably to let me absorb his words. "This is his last chance. If he fails, he's out. Seifer has agreed to these terms; in fact, he suggested them." Another pregnant pause as I clamped my jaw shut and simply tried to exude indignation from every pore, and then Cid cleared his throat. "He requested specifically to have you as an instructor." 

Now _that_ was unexpected, and quite unlike the Seifer I knew -- this one actually wanted to be in my class. For a moment I was tempted to feel flattered, in a twisted sort of a way, until I realized he was more likely out to exact a subtle revenge for my having failed him so many times. 

"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint him, but that would be a lie." 

Cid looked saddened by my decision. He leaned forward in his chair and sighed, rubbing softly at his temples. He waited a long moment before speaking, in what I privately called his 'official' voice. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Instructor, but it was never a request. If you wish to continue teaching here at Balamb, you will educate cadet Almasy in Advanced Battle Technique; just as Instructors Dincht, Kinneas, and Tilmitt will be training him in their specialties." 

That announcement froze my mind as effectively as one of Shiva's ice blasts. "You're making _Zell_ teach _Seifer?_" 

Cid nodded. 

"Zell." -- nod -- "And Seifer." -- nod -- "Together." -- nod -- "In one room." -- nod -- "For an entire period." -- nod -- ". . . with all due respect, Sir, are you out of your mind?" 

Nod. 

I smirked as Cid's actions caught up to him, a slightly embarrassed look crossing his ruddy features. "You weren't entirely paying attention there, were you, Sir?" 

He met my smirk with a wry grin of his own. "I'm afraid I allowed my brain to go on automatic. I'll be more careful around you in the future." 

I sighed, my smile fading as I recalled the matter at hand. _Always on task, like a good little SeeD,_ mocked a voice somewhere inside me. And I was. Good, dependable Quistis Trepe -- always does what's asked of her. And there I was again, trying to convince myself that teaching Seifer would be a challenged instead of a hardship; because it felt wrong to go against what was, at face value, a reasonable request. Something in me wouldn't let me refuse what it perceived as my duty, nonsensical as that perception may be. 

Well, that and my teaching position appeared to be on the line. 

"All right, I'll do it. But if Seifer isn't behaving as promised, I want out." 

There was no getting out once I'd agreed, and we both knew it, but Cid allowed me my small victory. He didn't smile, instead thanking me softly with a look of tired gratitude. I realized then that I was probably the faculty member requiring the least convincing when it came to Seifer's return. _He's going to have to tell Zell about his new student, and soon . . ._ I almost felt bad for the man sitting across from me, until I remembered the he would barely have to deal with 'cadet Almasy'. 

Still . . . I rose from the seat I couldn't recall taking and turned to leave, only to bump into a dirty, disheveled, dripping wet Zell, squelching in sopping running shoes. I blinked in surprise. 

"Zell, what happened to you?" 

He shrugged, offering me a friendly grin. "Landed in the brook in the training center. _Someone_ paged me while I was in the middle of fighting a T-Rexaur." 

"Is that a . . . twig in your hair?" 

Zell combed his finger through the dripping blond mess on his head -- not nearly so gravity-defying when it was wet -- and fished out a short brown stick complete with leaves. He gazed at it sheepishly. "Guess so. Prob'ly from when I ran into the   
tree . . ." 

I couldn't hold back a sad smile as I shook my head. "Looks like you're in for a rough day." 

Ignoring Zell's quizzical looks, I turned back to Headmaster Cid, regarding him for a moment before speaking. 

"Seifer," I said softly, "was exactly as surprised as I was when he found out I'd be his instructor." 

Cid looked rather as I must have all those years ago, when he'd catch me with my hand in Matron's cookie jar. I faced the exit in time to catch his reflection in the polished metal door offering me a small salute that seemed to say, _touché._

The hydraulic hiss of the door didn't quite mask Zell's words -- _"What's that jerk Almasy got to do with anything?"_

So help me, I was almost happy to be heading back to Seifer and my classroom. Anywhere would be better than Headmaster Cid's office for the next little while.   
  
  
  
  
  


AN: So yeah, I'm back. This took far too long to get up, and I've got no real excuse other than not being in the writer's mind for a sickening amount of time. Don't kill me, or pelt me with tomatoes, or anything . . . Though I guess the tomatoes would sort of be justified, as long as they aren't canned or frozen.   
Anyway, I won't make any promises as to when the next chapter will be up, but I have been rather productive as of late. I've also got another project on the go, but I doubt I'll post it until it's finished. Thanks to those who've reviewed thus far; I'll try to get things moving at a more reasonable pace from hereon in.   
Oh, and about the title: Yes, that's actually what it's called. As in, I'm keeping it that way. I like bad puns, and this is one. 


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